


The Obliterated Place

by leftbrainhipcheck



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftbrainhipcheck/pseuds/leftbrainhipcheck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He wants to marry you, Andy.”</p><p>“What does that have to do with anything?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Obliterated Place

“I hear Toby told you the news.”

CJ looks up from the file on her desk to find Andy leaning in her doorway, half-smiling, red hair trailing down her shoulders.  She smiles back without thinking, an involuntary reflex.  “He did,” she says.  “It’s great.  It’s – God, listen to me – it’s more than great.  It’s… well.  What’s more than great?”

“A miracle?” asks Andy wryly, and CJ laughs.

“It’s amazing.  I’m happy for you.  For you both.”

Andy walks in, shrugs off her jacket and throws it on a chair, perches on the edge of CJ’s desk.  “I haven’t even started to process it yet, honestly.  It seems so…”  She trails off, staring into space as she searches for a word that might not exist, and CJ lets her eyes drift away from Andy’s face for the briefest of moments, lets them sweep down her shoulders, with their constellation of freckles, and across the delicate dip of her clavicle, to wander over her chest, tracing the flimsy line of her camisole, following its arc –

“I wish he’d waited,” Andy says, and CJ’s eyes snap back up.  “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

CJ wished Toby had waited, too, that she hadn’t found out about Andy’s pregnancy while she was surrounded by Sam, Josh, fifty other people, work that couldn’t wait.  It’s not that she was lying when she said she was happy for them; she was thrilled that Andy was finally getting the children she’d always wanted, and it set her chest alight whenever she thought about the kind of father she knew Toby would be: gentle, genuine, steadfast in a way his own father never was.  Not to mention her sheer amusement at picturing these miniature Wyatt-Zieglers, whom she supposed would turn out to be some entertaining combination of red-haired and hyper-literate and clever and solemn.

But still, it was jarring news, news that would take some time to absorb, alone, somewhere, away from everyone.  In the meantime she’d fixed a smile to her face and joked about helping Toby win Andy back, and then she’d shut her mind off and tried her best to avoid them both until debate camp was over.

She shrugs.  “Telling us made sense at the time.”

“Even so.”

“Yeah.”

“You know he’s trying to convince me to marry him again.”

The TV is droning in the background, and CJ reaches for the remote, turns it off.  She nods, not entirely trusting herself to speak.

Andy sighs.  “God.  I’m going to get enormous.”

CJ has to smile despite herself.  She’s thought about this, already, already concluded that Andy will wear pregnancy well; in all the time she’s known her, she’s never seen anything – not all-nighters, not election fatigue, not any of an innumerable collection of hangovers – detract even slightly from Andy’s inherent loveliness.  CJ has long gotten used to the idea that Andy is just one of those women, the kind who make even exhaustion seem appealing, who become more striking, somehow, with their tousled, finger-combed hair, their yawning smiles, a slight shadow under their eyes. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” she says.  “You know I think you’re…” 

She finds herself unable to finish the sentence, though, suddenly unsure whether she’s crossing boundaries she can no longer see or seem to fathom.

Andy doesn’t notice.  “I suppose I’m still in shock,” she says.  “This wasn’t – there’s not really a plan here, you know?”

CJ doesn’t respond right away; she has to swallow so that her throat will open.  “Yeah.  I know.”

This time Andy catches the hitch in her voice, and her eyes meet CJ’s before flickering to the open office door.  “Do you have a minute?”

CJ nods, gets up, closes the door and snaps the blinds closed.  Then she licks her lips a few times and puts her hands on her hips, steeling her resolve.

“I think you should say yes to Toby,” she says finally, her voice firm.  Andy’s eyebrows raise, briefly, but after a moment her expression softens.

“Can we talk about that over here?” she asks.

CJ hesitates before crossing the room in long strides, brisk and businesslike, in-control.  Even so, when Andy reaches for her she allows herself to be pulled in, her legs nudging Andy’s thighs apart until their hips are touching, Andy’s hands on her waist.

“Why would I say yes to Toby?”

“I was under the impression those were his kids.”

“Yeah.  And if it were 1950 I’m sure we’d cause quite the scandal.”  She slides her hands inside CJ’s suit jacket, running them up and down the curve of her hips.  “Since when did you become such an old-fashioned girl?”

CJ closes her eyes, willing herself not to get distracted.  “You know we’re not going to be able to keep doing this… whatever this is.  The three of us.”

“No?” Andy asks.  “Why’s that?”

CJ gives her a pointed look.

“What?  I’m still new to this parenting thing, but nothing I’ve come across so far has mentioned compulsory celibacy as a requirement.  Believe me, I’d remember something like that.”

She finds the edge of CJ’s shirt and slips her hands underneath, running them over her stomach.  CJ leans in before she can help herself, then shakes her head.  _Focus_.

“Andy.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re supposed to be talking.”

“We are talking,” she murmurs.

“Well, you’re making it hard for me to concentrate.”

“Oh, am I?”  Andy tilts her head up, smiling, and kisses her.  She’s gentle at first, but after a moment she threads her hands through CJ’s hair and pulls her close, leaning in, eager, urgent.  Almost immediately, though, CJ is reaching for Andy’s wrists, disentangling her.  Taking a step back.

“Andy…”

Andy exhales.  “What?”

“I don’t know.  God.  I just – things are…”  She hates when she gets like this, inarticulate, the words bottling up inside her chest; it only ever happens around Andy, really, a sign that something isn’t right.  “You’re… Jesus, you’re pregnant.”

“Yes.  And overflowing with hormones, have I mentioned that?   _Crazed_ with hormones.”  She runs her tongue over her lower lip as she looks CJ up and down.  “So is there a problem, or can we move on to the part where I take your clothes off?”

CJ crosses her arms, a precaution against reaching out, or being reached for.  “Look, I’m sorry, it’s just that things are…”  She fumbles, again, for the words.

“Things are what?”

“I don’t know.  God.  He wants to _marry you_ , Andy.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Andy looks genuinely confused, and CJ has to close her eyes against the absurdity of the question.  She’s flooded for a moment with the memory of those years – the seemingly endless stretch of days and nights filled with disconsolate attempts to love people who weren’t the people she most loved; filled with watching from the outside as her most-loved people created a sort of intimacy she couldn’t touch; filled with storms and rage and struggle and grief as they all broke one another over and over again.  In the end, the three of them fell into an uneasy and ever-shifting sort of entanglement, one which came with its own battles and boundaries – but over time the lines became settled, the arguments less frequent.  CJ scolds herself now; it has made her lazy, comfortable, this protracted truce.  She gave up too much, and now here she is, again.  Standing on a precipice, looking out over that obliterated place.  Willing herself not to take another step.  Willing herself to turn away.

When she opens her eyes, they’re hard as flint.  “You know,” she says, and even she is surprised by the chill in her tone, “I’ve actually got a lot of work to do.” 

“Oh, come on,” Andy says, shaking her head.  “Don’t do that.”

CJ moves to the other side of her desk, putting it between them, and picks up the phone. 

“You should go,” she says, starting to dial, but Andy walks over and gently lifts the receiver out of her hand.

“Don’t,” she says, returning it to its cradle.  “I’m sorry – we’ll talk.  Clothes on, hands to myself, I promise.”

CJ opens her mouth, but every word she has ever known vanishes as she studies Andy’s face; all that’s left is the curve of Andy’s cheekbone, the provocation of her lips, the resulting ache in CJ’s chest.

“Alright,” she manages to say.  “ _I’ll_ go, then.”

And she does.

 

*

 

CJ hears the door and looks up from the sink, where she’s splashing water on her face.

“CJ,” Andy says, voice sparkling.  “Nice to see you.  Say – since we’ve run into each other, maybe now would be a good time to finish that conversation we were having last week. You remember, the one where you decided that running out of your own office was better than spending another second in the same room with me?”

CJ blinks a few times.  “Did you just follow me into the bathroom?”

“Funny thing, that office of yours.  Every time I come by, Carol _assures_ me you’re not in – even when I can see you, sitting at your desk, seemingly corporeal and by all appearances entirely, y’know, _there_.  So yeah, I followed you into the bathroom.”  She crosses her arms.  “Come on, CJ, we don’t do this.  We don’t give each other the silent treatment.”

CJ grabs a handful of paper towels and presses them to her face.  “I’m not giving you the silent treatment, Andy.  I’m _busy_.  Big election coming up, maybe you’ve heard?  Turns out, my boss is one of the guys in the running, so I figured I’d do him a favor, help him out with that.”

“Yeah, you know, I’m actually running in an election myself,” says Andy.  “I’m also growing two human beings inside my body, which is not nothing.  And yet _somehow_ , I still managed to find the time to come talk to you.”

CJ sighs.  “What do you want, Andy?”

“What do you think I want?  I want you to tell me what’s going on in that infuriating brain of yours.”

CJ throws the paper towels into the trash and stares at her, silent, for a very long time.  She imagines what she might say, if things were different – that is, if things were still even a little bit the same – all of her thoughts catching inside her, knotting her up, tensing her muscles and seething in her stomach.  Then she swallows and looks up, looks away, and Andy must see the tears in her eyes – _dammit_ – because she’s there, instantly, she’s there.

“Whoa, hey – ” she says, brushing the hair away from CJ’s face, kissing her cheeks, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and drawing her close.  “Come on, whatever it is, it’ll be fine.  Everything’s fine, sweetie.”

CJ gives a short laugh and pulls away, running an impatient hand under each eye.  “Well, there you go.  I guess everything’s fine then.”

Andy’s brow creases.  “Okay, really, CJ, I need you to tell me what’s happening.  I mean, I know this is big news: pregnancy, twins, life-altering – believe me, _I get it_.  But now… we’re not talking?  Would you just tell me what’s going on?”

CJ shakes her head, exhaling slowly.  “Nothing.  Nothing.  I’m not – you’re right.  Everything’s fine.  I’m just over-tired.”

“Sure, except you don’t cry when you’re tired.  You spill things on yourself and you make awful puns – really awful puns.  But you don’t cry.”

CJ leans back against the sink, angles her head, stares at the ceiling.  “Andy…”

“Yeah?”

She wants to ask; she’s afraid to ask.  “I don’t know,” is what she finally says.

“ _CJ_.”

She shrugs.  “I don’t know, Andy.  What do you want me to say?”

“Well, _something_.  First thing that pops into your head.”

And to CJ’s surprise it works: the words come to the surface, low and hesitant, but there they are. 

“What did you say to Toby?”

“What did I say to Toby – what, about getting married?  I said no.  I’ve been saying no, for weeks.  He keeps asking, I keep turning him down.  I’m starting to think we’re stuck in some endless loop.  That maybe he’s just never going to get it.”

“Why?”

Andy shakes her head.  “I don’t know – for all those brains, he can be _unbelievably_ slow sometimes.  I’m really hoping that’s one of those traits that skips a generation.”

“No, I mean – why are you saying no?”

“Oh.  Well, you know why.”

“I don’t, actually.”

Andy shrugs.  “Because… what we have now is what works.  The two of you have your thing, and he and I have what we have, and then you and I – it’s just what works.  And, yeah, there’ll be kids now, and that’s complicated, but… marrying him isn’t going to fix anything.  I don’t know why that man thinks he has to propose every time I get pregnant.”

“Well, to be fair, last time you said yes,” CJ points out.

“And look how well that turned out.  He felt trapped after the miscarriage, I resented him for it, and then we just took turns wounding one another in progressively awful ways until there was nothing left.  Yeah, you’re right, why wouldn’t I be up for that again?”  She shakes her head.  “I don’t want to marry someone who’s only around because he feels obligated.  I learned that lesson already.  _With him_.”

CJ lowers her head, meets Andy’s eye.  “You know it’s not just obligation.  He loves you.”

“Yeah, well, he loves you too, I don’t see him pestering you about getting married.  And he won’t, you know he won’t.”  She shrugs, amused.  “Well.  Not unless he knocks you up, too.”

“ _Words we do not say out loud_ , Andy.  Jesus.”

“I don’t know.  I’ve always thought he makes a lot more sense with you than he does with me.”

CJ ignores that, clears her throat, looks away.  “But you don’t think it could be better, now, the two of you?  With kids?”  She pauses, eyes resolutely fixed to the ceiling, until the not-asking is so heavy in her chest that it starts to hurt to breathe.  

So then, because it’s the only way she can ease the pressure: “Don’t you want to try to be a family, all of you?”

Andy turns to look at her, and finally, finally, something seems to click.  

“Claudia Jean,” Andy says, shaking her head as though she’s amazed that she even has to say the words.  “Is that what this is?”  She exhales, not quite a laugh, but a sound of relief, of gratitude for finally understanding. 

“CJ.  Listen to me.  I _have_ a family.”

CJ doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away from the spot on the ceiling, but the catch in her breath gives her away. 

“I’m really not marrying him,” Andy continues.  “I wouldn’t do that again.  For so many reasons, I wouldn’t do that. I'm sorry - I thought you knew.”

CJ shifts her gaze to her feet, unable to meet Andy’s eye, relief spreading through her so fast she’s worried she’ll start to sway on the spot.  “I just thought – with kids, now.  And he keeps asking.”

“Yeah, well.  Obligation, like I said.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter.  My answer’s the same.”

CJ looks at her out of the corner of her eye, thinking of how easily-broken they all are in one another’s hands; thinking of the obliterated place.  “It does matter, Andy.  You need to be careful.  Gentle.  Even if he’s driving you crazy.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s Toby.  It matters.”

“Yeah,” Andy says, taking a deep breath.  “Yeah, I know.”

They’re both quiet for a while, thinking their own thoughts.  CJ is trying to imagine what her life will look like in five years, in ten, what they will look like together, if they will look like anything.  _Yes_ , she thinks, Andy’s words echoing in her head: I _have_ a family.

 _Yes._   _Something.  Maybe not this, but something.  Always._

“Remember the time we got kicked out of that bar for having really loud sex in the bathroom?”

CJ blinks.  “What?”

“You don’t remember?  I think we must have been, I don’t know, 26 or 27?”

“No, I remember.  I just – that’s… just not what I was thinking about.”

“Oh, sorry.  I’m – hormones,” Andy says, waiving a hand.  “What are you thinking about?”

“Well, now I’m thinking about the time we got kicked out of that bar for having really loud sex in the bathroom. Though, if I remember correctly, _we_ weren’t having really loud sex in the bathroom, _you_ were having really loud sex in the bathroom.  _I_ was having sex at a normal volume.”

“Well whose fault was it that I couldn’t keep quiet?”

“Don’t look at me,” CJ says.  “Some people just have better self-control than others.”

“Really?” Andy replies, turning to face her.  “A lecture on self-control from the woman whose goal it was to get laid in every building on Berkeley’s campus?”

CJ raises her eyebrows, dignified.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.  But if I did, I’m sure I would tell you that… study breaks are important.”

“Oh yeah?” Andy asks.  She leans in slowly and kisses the freckle behind CJ’s left ear, and for the first time in days, CJ lets herself smile.

“Door,” she breathes as Andy’s mouth moves down, her breath warm against CJ’s neck, but Andy just shakes her head, murmurs into her skin, “Got it.”

CJ leans back.  “You locked the door?”

“Yeah.  So we could talk.”  When CJ looks skeptical, Andy grins.  “Oh, come on, can you blame me?  Not my first time following you into a bathroom, sweetie.”

CJ shakes her head, smiling, incredulous.  “You are unbelievable.”

Andy nods.  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

“ _Un_ believable.”  CJ reaches out and plucks at the buttons of Andy’s shirt with a practiced hand, unfastening each one, stepping forward, slowly backing her into a wall.  “You know, now that I think about it, I don’t recall hearing you complain about all those study breaks.”

“Well.  I was told they were important.”  She inhales sharply as CJ slides a hand up her skin, slipping under her bra, grazing her nipple with a thumb and then circling, circling.  Andy closes her eyes and leans her head back against the wall.

“Damn right they were important."

“CJ,” Andy murmurs, and there’s a pleading edge to her voice that CJ understands.  The sound of want _,_ of need, of _please don’t make me wait_.

“Now what was that about self-control?” she asks, reaching down with her free hand to unbutton, to unzip, to slide her hand in.

“Also important,” Andy breathes, gritting her teeth to stifle a moan as CJ's hand starts to move.

CJ leans in, pressing her lips to Andy’s ear.  “Well, I certainly hope yours has improved,” she whispers.  “Because I’m not stopping.”

“Don’t.  Please," Andy says.  "Ever.”

And she doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Love and hugs and so many snuggles to [Emily](http://lovehermindlovehershoes.tumblr.com), beta-extraordinare, whose comments make everything better. Lovelovelove.


End file.
